


Close Quarters

by martialartist816



Series: Misadventures of a Prince and His Knight [2]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Camping, Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Sleeping arrangements, Tight Spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16718163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martialartist816/pseuds/martialartist816
Summary: The one where Soren and Callum get trapped in some not-that-uncomfortable tight spaces.





	Close Quarters

“Move your big, dumb head.”

“I wouldn’t have to move my big, dumb head if you’d just stay on your side… And I’m not dumb!”

“I am on my side! You’re the one ignoring boundaries.”

“You’re squishing me against the--Mmf!”

Soren catches the heel of Callum’s palm right in his jaw. He glares down to see the prince struggling with their limited blankets and even more limited space. Sure, it  _ seems _ like hitting Soren was an accident, but he totally knows Callum did it on purpose.

“You could have chosen a bigger tent,” Callum grumbles.

“They’re all the same size. Need I remind you that our equipment in the armory is for individual use only?” Soren draws out his words. Maybe talking slowly will get Callum to understand him better.

“Am I supposed to believe that all you knights get your own tent when sharing two or three per tent would save energy and space?”

“Hey, I said it’s what we do. I didn’t say it was smart.”

“I’ll talk to the king about getting that resolved.” Callum is still fidgeting around, trying to get comfortable, which is futile. In his attempt, he knees Soren right in the groin.

“Ow!” he groans at a pitch higher than he would have liked.

“Sorry,” Callum mumbles. But Soren can see that satisfied little smirk on his face despite his best effort to hide it. He’s not sorry at all.

“You’re both dumb-heads,” Prince Ezran calls to them.

Soren sits up in the low tent and peers across the open flaps to see the young prince shaking his head, the glow toad clutched in his arms like a stuffed toy. Ezran and Claudia share the other tent across from them. Even from here, Soren can tell they’re much more comfortable. Ezran and Claudia are small, too, making it easier for both of them to fit in the cramped space. They’ve even captured some sun-bugs in a jar and are keeping them in a jar for gentle lighting.

“You got us child-sized tents instead of the full-sized ones,” Ezran points out.

“What? No, I didn’t. I grabbed these from the armory cupboard on the left,” Soren defends.

“The full-sized tents are in the cupboard on the right,” Claudia says, and by the look on her face, she’s enjoying this way too much.

“How would you even know that? I’m in the armory every day.”

“And yet you still confuse left and right,” Claudia teases.

“Ugh.” Soren flops back down on the blankets. His elbow accidentally--really, accidentally--knocks Callum right in the ribs. He ignores the prince’s protests of pain. “Next time, you fetch the tents, and I’ll go chasing sun-bugs.”

“If it means having more room to breathe, I’d gladly,” he hears Claudia chuckle from across the gap.

Next to him, Callum finally seems to settle down. He lays on his side facing Soren, one hand under his cheek to support it. The position leaves enough space between them so they aren’t fully on top of each other. As long as neither of them moves all night long, the full hours of dusk to dawn, not even a muscle… they’d be fine.

Soren groans. “Who even picked the sleeping arrangements anyway?”

“Ez did,” Callum answers gently, sounding like he let go of his frustration and calmed down. Soren is still working his way there.

“And he didn’t want to share a tent with you?”

Callum does an awkward half shrug on his side. “He and I share a room every night. I guess he wanted to shake things up a bit.”

“I definitely want to shake things up,” Ezran affirms.

Claudia whispers something to the tiny prince. Soren tries to listen, but he can’t make out a word. Whatever she said, Ezran giggles in response and whispers back to her. They enter a fit of hardly suppressed laughter, and Soren shoots back up in a sitting position to glare at them. As soon as he’s up, the whispers stop, and both perpetrators and the toad stare at him blankly.

“What? I’m not good enough to know what secrets you two are sharing?”

“This is a second-born siblings only meeting,” Ezran says. Claudia snorts.

“Bait is allowed in the meeting,” Soren protests with a frown.

“Bait is a second-born sibling. He told me so.” The toad sagely burps in confirmation.

Soren looks back to Callum, searching for some kind of solace in his involuntary tentmate. Callum only smiles apologetically at him, as if to say that he’s used to indulging Ezran’s overactive imagination. Even if it meant sharing close quarters because it was the younger prince’s idea to go camping in the first place.

Callum was willing to give up his comfortable bed to sleep on the ground all night if it meant making his little brother happy. Soren mentally debated if he would do the same for Claudia, and he almost laughed out loud because the answer was a hard no.

“Whatever. You two--”

“Three.”

“--can have all the secret little kid meetings you want. I’m happy to share my big brother tent anyway.” He unties the two tent flaps and allows them to fall closed. They block out any remaining light from outside, plunging them into the dark.

“Goodnight, Ez,” Callum says.

“Night, Callum.”

Soren takes a minute to get comfortable. It dawns on him that no matter how far into the corner he scoots himself, he’ll feel Callum’s body heat next to him all night. He’s used to sleeping alone, but he thinks he can bear it until morning. Callum doesn’t seem like the type to snore.

“You’re a very patient older brother,” Soren murmurs hopefully soft enough so the others don’t hear him.

When Callum speaks, Soren can’t really see his face. His voice just comes for him in the dark, gentle as the blanket around them.

“He’s just a kid. I wanna give him as much fun as possible before he’s sucked into responsibilities and politics.”

Soren can relate to that. With how strict his dad can be on him and Claudia sometimes, it makes him long for childhood more and more.

“I keep forgetting that he’ll be king one day,” Soren admits. “But he’ll be great. I see a lot of his dad in him.”

“He’s mature for his age,” Callum agrees. A pause, then he adds, “Most of the time.”

They laugh quietly together. Soren’s eyes close on their own, and it feels like sleep is about to give him its sweet embrace when he hears a single whisper coming from Claudia. He doesn’t catch it clearly enough to know what she said other than the fact that he recognizes it as a different language.

Before he can even whine about her doing magic at this hour of the night, a purple glow of sparkles encapsulates their tent and promptly shrinks it to half its original size.

The walls close in on them, pushing Soren literally on top of Callum. He can’t stop himself in time from totally crushing the poor prince, who lets out a surprised “Oof!” By now, Soren’s eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he stares down at Callum in disbelief for the few long moments it takes his brain to buffer the new information.

“Claudia!” he roars.

She doesn’t even feign innocence. She just cackles maniacally, obviously so satisfied with her work. Soren can hear Ezran giggling happily alongside her.

There’s hardly any room left to sit up normally, let alone roll off of Callum. Soren still tries, though. It takes much longer than it should have, Callum unfortunately catching a punch in the shoulder, but he eventually manages to sit on his knees and tear the flap open.

Prince Ezran and Claudia smile pleasantly, the traitors.

“Aw, he’s blushing,” Claudia says.

Soren says nothing to that in response, mostly because he can feel how red his cheeks are, and they will definitely turn shades darker if he tries to deny it.

“Fix the tent, Claudia.” It’s useless.Once Claudia decides she wants to do something, no one has the power to make her change it. Her being the only one out of the four of them who knows magic doesn’t help. She knows she can do whatever she wants, evidenced by the fox-like grin on her face.

Was it just Soren, or did Prince Ezran have one to match?

“I’d love to, Sor-bear,” Claudia innocently bats her eyelashes, “but I think I’m just too tired to do another spell tonight. It might just have to wait until morning.” She illustrates her point with a terribly acted out yawn.

“Me too,” Ezran adds, like he could have helped fix things anyway. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

Soren rolls his eyes. For some reason, those two have teamed up and made it their mission to deprive him of a good night’s sleep. It wouldn’t be so bad if the tent wasn’t so incredibly tiny, tiny to the point where he wouldn’t be able to sleep without pressing himself again Callum.

He’s going to blush again if he keeps thinking about that, so he lets the tent flap fall closed again to hide him from the antagonists.

Soren debates just getting up and leaving when a hand falls on his shoulder.

“It’s just one night,” Callum reasons with him, his voice even closer than it had been before. “We can make it work.”

He doesn’t sound nearly as frustrated as Soren feels. The vibes that roll off of Callum are more content and sleepy and maybe even a little… excited?

“If you don’t care about this, then I don’t,” Soren says with finality. Whatever the ‘this’ he’s referring to is, he doesn’t specify. The camping, the tight spaces, the implicit fact that they’ll have to get really really close for a few hours, it was all fine. Really. Fine.

“Here, just make yourself comfortable,” Callum instructs, pushing him down onto his back. Soren side-eyes him warily, and Callum laughs. “Or at least try to.”

When Soren settles on his back, he feels Callum’s hands over him. He lifts Soren’s arm away from his side and wedges his body into the space left behind.

Soren’s whole body heats up, something that Callum is sure to pick up on because they are just so freaking close. He feels Callum shift and lie on his side facing Soren. His head finds cushion on Soren’s shoulder, and an arm drapes itself lightly over his waist.

This is cuddling. Pure, unadulterated cuddling. Soren has to fight the real urge to tug Callum even closer and bury his nose in his hair. The position is calming, which doesn’t take Soren by surprise as much as it should have. He’s actually comfy. His eyelids start to droop shortly after that, and before sleep takes him, he thinks he hears the faint sound of a high-five from the other tent.

Soren’s internal clock wakes him around sunrise. His surroundings come back to him bit by bit as he takes in the tight walls of their miniature tent. His world has shifted, and he comes to find that’s because he’s laying on his side. In his arms is the sleeping prince, back pressed firmly to his chest. Soren’s one arm holds him close while the other serves as a pillow for Callum’s head. His brown hair is a mess, but still soft, and smells like chamomile soap.

He has a sneaking feeling that this was Ezran’s plan all along. That evil genius. Soren should thank him later.

The body in his arm wiggles, and a tired groan announces that Callum has rejoined the land of the conscious.

“The slumbering prince awakens, and he didn’t even need true love’s first kiss,” Soren says against his hair, squeezing him.

Callum, ever the not-morning person, grumbles unintelligibly in response.

“Wake up. I’m gonna need that brain of yours to help me plot my revenge on our siblings.” Soren might not have magic, but he does know how to pull a decent prank on his sister from time to time.

“Do you hear footsteps?” Callum asks, turning in Soren’s arms to gaze sleepily at him.

Soren opens his mouth to tell Callum to stop messing with him, but his words are halted when the tent flap is pulled back and King Harrow pokes his head in.

“Good morning, boys,” he says, polite and chipper.

“Aagh! Your Majesty!” Soren stutters out a few syllables in his panic. The king just caught his number one knight spooning his step-son prince in a tent two sizes too small. There is absolutely no way to make it sound better than it looks.

Soren scrambles to shoot away from Callum.  _ Yes, sir, my hands were completely to myself all night. I am a gentleman, please don’t behead me. _

The king just laughs. “I’m surprised you two managed to stay out here all night. Ezran and Claudia went to bed hours ago.”

“What?”

Soren clambers out of the tent and stands in the middle of the castle’s courtyard. The tent next to them is empty.

Prince Ezran meanders out of the castle with a plate full of jelly tarts. He and the glow toad share their breakfast, looking well-rested and not at all like Soren and Callum who slept on a hard stone ground all night.

“Oh, hey, Soren,” Ezran says, wearing a sneaky smile that a ten-year-old shouldn’t be able to pull off. “I like your hair like that.”

At that comment, Callum’s head pops out of the tent. He looks up at Soren and laughs gently at what must be his hilarious bedhead. Like he’s one to talk.

“I am going to kill Claudia.”

The three royals around him all chuckle.


End file.
